


the start of something

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cooking, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: The story of how Jeff Troy became, at first, Kent Parson’s linemate, then his friend, and eventually something more than that.





	the start of something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogstarblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogstarblack/gifts).



> Written for the Kent Parson Birthday Bash 2017. Here's the prompt: "For a fic, maybe a story where Kent maybe goes to therapy, and he realises he doesn't actually need Jack to be happy. Obviously it isn't easy for him to give up on the idea of Jack, and he's got all his issues to make it harder, but he finally starts to move on. Eventually he figures out he's in love with Swoops, and he gets a good boyfriend and healthy relationship. Honestly just anything where Kent gets a chance to move on and be happy."
> 
> I decided to write this one from Swoops' perspective. I hope you like it!
> 
> Special thanks to [irlkent](http://irlkent.tumblr.com/), who was my beta for this fic :) Also a big thank you to the people who organized this exchange!
> 
> One more thing: in this fic the most recent lockout didn't happen.

Jeff meets Kent Parson early on in his career with the Las Vegas Aces. And maybe the story actually starts as early as that; Jeff isn’t sure. In all honesty, he probably won’t ever be.

*

Jeff Troy gets drafted by the Las Vegas Aces in 2008.

One year later, the Aces would draft their new superstar, but Jeff knows nothing of all that when he joins the Reno Wildcats for his rookie year. He can’t deny that he’s learning a lot, gets to play a lot, but he’s still beyond excited when he’s called up to the Aces along with a bunch of other guys for the Aces’ last game of the regular season.

He doesn’t score his first NHL goal that night – he gets an assist, so he still has a puck to take home, but the goal is going to have to wait for another day.

The Aces call him up again during his second year and this time he joins them for a two-game roadie starting in Dallas. At this point, Kent Parson has been with the Aces for several months, has scored a ridiculous number of goals, and has racked up an even more ridiculous number of points. Jeff can already see him winning the Calder.

Jeff has been keeping an eye on what’s been going on in Vegas. Parson is a joy to watch; he makes it look so easy. He’s fast, and he doesn’t always play nice, but he’s so charming that people will forgive him instantly when he flashes a smile.

The truth is, Kent Parson is incredible. And Jeff has a hard time not saying exactly that when he meets him for the first time. He’s trying to be cool. He’s met a whole bunch of these guys last year, and Patty gives him a pat on the back and introduces him to everyone as Swoops, and winks, and Jeff resigns himself to the fact that he won’t get rid of that nickname, no matter what he says or does. He might have been a bit over-excited before his first NHL game and told everyone that he should have stuck with playing basketball instead, even though he’s not _that_ tall. When he thinks about that day he only remembers being nervous; he has no idea when exactly he became Swoops.

He thought the guys might have forgotten about it, but Patty says it’s his duty as captain to remember this kind of stuff. It could be worse. Now he just has an entire hockey team calling him Swoops and giggling every two minutes.

Jeff sits next to Sunny on the plane, because they know each other from Reno; they played together all of last year. Sunny is the Aces’ backup goalie now and Jeff is a tiny little bit jealous that Sunny gets to play with the Aces full-time, but Sunny’s older than him; he’s been waiting for much longer. And Jeff is here right now, on a plane to Dallas, about to play in his second NHL game, so he shouldn’t be complaining.

He never thought he’d go straight to Vegas. He wasn’t a number one draft pick like Parson; he was a third round pick, and he’s honestly just glad that he gets to play hockey at all. But he wants to play in the NHL, and not only for a couple of games here and there.

Part of Jeff wants to ask Parse how he does it, if there’s a secret, but he doesn’t get to talk to Parse much. Not this time around.

Parse is both much quieter and much more focused than Jeff was expecting. Sure, he goofs around with the guys, but then he sits back down and tapes his stick and looks more serious than any other guy in the room.

Once or twice, Jeff catches himself thinking that Parse sometimes even looks a little sad. Jeff has read about the thing with Zimmermann and he’s not sure how much of it he believes and he sure as hell won’t ask Parse about it, but those two were best friends, and from what Jeff has seen in the media, it looks like Zimmermann nearly died. Jeff wouldn’t be surprised if Parse was still upset about it.

One time, Parse catches Jeff looking and raises an eyebrow. “You okay, Troy?”

“Yeah, sorry, uh…”

“Second NHL game.” Parse nods. “I get it.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Jeff nods and turns his attention back to his stick tape. Does Kent Parson, who’s never ever been in danger of getting sent to Reno, understand what’s at stake for Jeff here? Probably not.

A lot of people have called Parse arrogant, and Jeff sees how you’d get that impression when you watch his interviews. He’s confident, and snarky sometimes when he’s being asked questions he doesn’t want to answer, and all that smirking and winking could easily get mistaken for arrogance, but it all very quickly falls away when nobody’s watching. There are a lot of sides to Parse, and Jeff isn’t sure if he’ll ever get to know them all.

That doesn’t change that Kent Parson doesn’t truly know what it’s like to be a guy like Jeff Troy.

Honestly, Jeff is lucky he’s even playing tonight. He ends up on the fourth line and he does what he can, but he doesn’t score, doesn’t even get an assist, and he tells himself that it’s what he expected all along, but part of him was hoping that he’d miraculously score half a dozen goals and that the Aces would keep him in Vegas and he’d get to score half a dozen goals in every single game for the rest of the season. Or at least that’s how it usually goes in his daydreams.

Coach Martinez gives him another chance two days later when they play against the Aeros in Houston. And somehow, thanks to some sort of miracle, Jeff scores in the second period.

Parse is the one who gets the puck for him. That’s the first time Jeff sees the captain in him.

*

“Just dump it all in here,” Sunny says and pushes the door open. “Ignore the beanbag chairs.”

“You’re expecting me to ignore that you have five beanbag chairs in your guest room?”

“They’re for when the guys come over,” Sunny says with a shrug.

Sunny and Parse could actually fit the whole Aces roster on the massive couch they have downstairs, although things might get a little cuddly if you tried to squeeze too many guys on it. Going by various Aces players’ Instagram photos, the team is pretty cuddly as a whole, though.

Sunny hugged Jeff for a good minute when he arrived today. He went from the airport right to the Aces’ practice rink together with Mikey. The Aces called both of them up because two of their forwards are out and they went straight to practice this morning. Afterwards Jeff went home with Sunny and Parse, and Mikey went home with Patty.

Sunny and Parse found themselves a house together last summer and Sunny sent Jeff about a hundred pictures of it – _and if you ever come to vegas this season (and we both know you will) it also has a guest room!!_

And now here he is. In the guest room. Which he’s sharing with five beanbag chairs.

Jeff dumps his suitcase and his duffle next to the bed as instructed and follows Sunny back downstairs, Sunny showing him around as they go. They have one room that’s completely empty – “We’re not sure what to do with it. Like, we’re just renting this place, so we probably shouldn’t do anything weird. We’ll probably turn it into a movie room.”

They eventually end up in the kitchen and it looks so pristine that Jeff is almost sure that Sunny and Parse have used it approximately two times ever since they moved in. Parse is sitting at the breakfast bar with his phone. Even at home, he’s wearing an Aces cap. It’s like it’s permanently attached to his head. “Parser’s hair looks too fucking weird,” Sunny said earlier. “It’d made people’s eyes bleed if they had to look directly at it.”

Jeff can’t see anything wrong with Parse’s hair other than the fact that it’s usually sticking up oddly, but that’s not a discussion Jeff wants to get involved in.

“Always on Twitter,” Sunny says to Parse, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Parse says and holds up his phone. “All right, kids… smile.”

A second later, Sunny has Jeff in a headlock and is beaming at the camera. Jeff tries not to find it weird that Parse called them kids even though they’re both older than him. The thing is, Parse has a lot more experience in the NHL than the both of them combined, and even though Sunny is now a permanent fixture on the Aces’ roster, he doesn’t get to play all that often.

“Hey, Swoops,” Parse says, eyes on his phone, “what’s your user name on Twitter?”

“I… don’t have one.”

“Oh, dude, you shouldn’t have said that,” Sunny whispers.

“What?”

“Too late.”

“I–”

“I’ll take care of that,” Parse says. “Suns, you still going out with your girl tonight?”

“Yeah, I was gonna–”

“Cool, I’ll hang out with our boy Swoops here and set up a Twitter account for him.”

“I don’t need a–”

“Don’t even argue,” Sunny mutters, and shuffles over to the fridge. “Okay, so you can eat whatever you want, except for the stuff that has my name on it. I don’t care if you eat Parser’s food. If you cook for him, he probably won’t even care.”

Parse looks up.

“Oh, right…” Sunny grins at Parse. “You don’t know. Our friend Swoops here is the best cook in the league. I’m not even kidding.” He puts an arm around Jeff. “Listen, please make Parse lasagna and tell me if he cried. And make a lot so I can have some when I get home.”

Jeff doesn’t end up making lasagna because he doesn’t have a car to go grocery shopping and he doesn’t want to ask Parse if he can borrow his, so he makes pasta with the ingredients in the fridge that don’t seem to belong to anyone in particular.

Parse is leaning against the counter, and Jeff isn’t sure if he just wants to keep him company or if he wants to keep an eye on what Jeff is taking out of the fridge.

They talk about hockey and it’s an easy conversation – players they liked growing up, the first games they went to, then Jeff talks about the team he played for in juniors and Kent falls silent. He suddenly looks like he wants to run away, so Jeff swiftly changes the topic.

“So,” Jeff says as he stirs his pasta sauce, “you’re not much of a cook, then?”

“Not exactly.” Parse leans over to peer into the pan. “This actually smells good. I thought Sunny was kidding.”

Jeff snorts. “My aunt owns a restaurant. She’s Italian. My dad’s brother got married to her when I was, like, two and they’d always babysit me and I always helped with dinner and stuff. A couple of years ago they both quit their jobs to open a restaurant.”

“That’s cool,” Parse says, and he sounds completely sincere.

“Here,” Jeff says as he hands over the spoon, “stir the sauce and make sure it doesn’t burn.”

Parse keeps looking over at Jeff as he stirs, like he’s trying to ask if he’s doing it right, and Jeff always nods and smiles, and finally, tentatively, Parse smiles back at him. It’s not the media smile. It’s slow and soft and barely there, like it’s a secret.

Jeff is starting to understand that all the smiling, all the smirking, the easy jokes with the reporters… it’s a defense mechanism. Parse is just a kid. He’s broken rookie records and he’s currently the Aces’ leading scorer, he’s already one of the best players in the league, but no matter how great of a hockey player he is, he’s also a kid who gets nervous about stirring pasta sauce.

After dinner, Parse sets up a Twitter account for Jeff. They stay up late talking, and Jeff starts to feel like he and Kent Parson could actually be friends.

Maybe that’s how it starts.

*

Jeff doesn’t have too many followers on Twitter in the beginning, but Parse keeps tweeting at him and they eventually start to trickle in. Jeff mostly posts photos and game stats. Parse’s replies usually get more favorites than Jeff’s tweets, but it doesn’t bother him all that much.

Jeff likes Parse. Admires him. After only two years in the NHL, he’s already so much better than he was when he got drafted. Jeff isn’t surprised when Parse is named captain after Patty retires. He was wearing the A throughout last season; he’s the kind of guy people look up to and he cares about his teammates as much as he cares about winning. Kent Parson doesn’t win for himself; he wins for his team.

When Jeff hears about Parse becoming captain, he’s back in Reno with the Wildcats. He sends Parse a text to congratulate him and receives a reply half a minute later – _thanks swoopsie, suns says he misses ya xoxo_. Which is… very Kent Parson. Parse can be a bit of an overdramatic goofball and he loves jokes that aren’t actually funny, but that kind of makes Jeff like him even more.

The thing is, Jeff still doesn’t _really_ know Parse.

It sort of hits him in early December when Parse calls him completely out of the blue.

Jeff just got home from… Well, from a friend’s place. His roommate grins when Jeff slips in through the door and he says something about how lucky Jeff is to have a girl who doesn’t mind being in a relationship with no strings attached. Jeff only shrugs and smiles. He doesn’t correct him and quietly retreats to his room.

He’s barely snuggled into bed with a book when Parse calls him.

At first Jeff thinks that Parse is calling him on accident, but then he remembers that it’s Sunny’s birthday and that he’s out with the guys tonight, so Jeff picks up. “Parse?”

“Swoops…”

Jeff can hear the faint echoes of music. Sounds like Parse is outside a club, or maybe somewhere in a different room. “Do you need a ride home, because if yes, you should probably call someone who lives a little closer to Vegas.”

“Swoops,” Parse says again.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you,” Parse mumbles.

Well, it’s hardly surprising that Parse didn’t mean to call him. Jeff would bet his ass that Parse is completely fucking wasted.

“Actually, I did,” Parse goes on.

“What?”

“It’s just… You’re Jeff. And your name… was right there. I called you so I wouldn’t call… someone else.”

“Ah,” Jeff says, laughing. “Yeah, better drunk-dial some guy from the AHL team than your ex, eh?”

“I…” Parse sighs. “What do you do when you miss someone so much and you– What if they don’t care? What if they just don’t give a shit? And they don’t answer your calls anyway, and they… they don’t want you.”

“I’m not the right person to–”

“I’ve done a lot of stupid shit.”

“Everyone does stupid shit all the time, Parse,” Jeff says. He’s not sure if he should be worried, if he should text Sunny and tell him to go find Parse and get him home. When you start thinking about calling your ex, it’s usually a good time to call it a night.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Listen, sometimes…” Jeff chews on his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. He doesn’t know shit about serious relationships, but he doesn’t want to leave Parse hanging, so he has to say _something_. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to move on.”

“I don’t wanna move on.”

“Okay, but maybe you still should.”

“You suck at this.”

Jeff has two options here: he can either tell Parse to go fuck himself and hang up, because he didn’t sign up to be snapped at in the middle of the night, or he can take a deep breath and deal with it. Jeff opts for the deep breath. “Yeah, thanks a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“Parse,” Jeff says, “go home and go to bed, okay? You’re–”

“There you are,” someone says in the background. It’s definitely not Sunny. “Who’re you talking to?”

“No one,” Parse says.

“Okay, well, say goodbye to No One, we’re leaving in five. I’m gonna wait right around the corner, all right?”

“Fine…” There’s a pause, then Parse says, “I gotta go, I’m sorry that your name’s Jeff, you were… right there.”

“So you’ve been saying, and I don’t know what you’re on about, but it’s cool. Drink some water when you get home, okay?”

“Okay,” Parse says and hangs up without saying goodbye.

They don’t talk about it the next day. Jeff almost wants to text Parse and ask him how his head is feeling. What he actually wants to ask, though, is if he’s okay. Because last night Parse didn’t sound okay, not really.

In the end, he doesn’t text Parse anything at all. It’s none of his business.

The day after, Parse sends him a picture of a chocolate lab puppy in the Aces’ locker room, then a picture of Sunny, holding up the puppy like he’s in _The Lion King_ , and one of it sleeping in Kent’s lap. Later a few more pictures show up on Parse’s Twitter – _Bennie’s new son._

Parse looks like he’s doing fine. He was probably just drunk and people sometimes think they miss their exes all of a sudden when they’ve had a few drinks too many. It happens, even to people like Kent Parson. So there’s no need to worry.

Jeff worries a little anyway.

*

A month later, Jeff is on a plane to join the Aces in Boston, because one of Parse’s linemates is out with an injury. He’s gonna need surgery. And Jeff feels bad for Jenkins, but he’s out for the rest of the season which means– Jeff doesn’t even want to think about what that might mean for him, because he doesn’t want to jinx himself.

But there’s a chance he might get to stay until the end of the season. If he doesn’t fuck up, that is. He’s leading the Wildcats in points this season, so it’s not completely out of the question, but he’s going to have to work hard for this.

Jeff doesn’t get to fill in for Jenkins, which is hardly surprising even though he would have loved a chance to play on the same line with Parse. Coach Martinez shuffles the lines a little to find Jeff a place and he ends up on the third line in the game against Boston. Jeff gets an assist, which is better than nothing, but not quite what he was hoping for and most definitely not what he’s been daydreaming about.

He’s back on the third line in Providence. He doesn’t score. Doesn’t even get an assist.

They go back to Vegas after the game against the Falconers. He’s staying with Parse and Sunny again, and he laughs when he sees the _Welcome Home_ sign that Sunny has put into the guest room for him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. He tries not to be grumpy, but the thought that he’s not good enough – that he will never be good enough – keeps nagging at him.

He doesn’t sleep well that night.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Sunny says to him in the morning, and immediately hands him a cup of coffee. It’s half-empty already, so it’s most likely Sunny’s coffee, but Jeff couldn’t care less right now.

“Thanks,” Jeff grumbles and takes a sip.

Parse is sitting at the kitchen table, watching them with raised eyebrows.

Sunny shakes his head at him and then shuffles out of the kitchen. “Eat whatever you want, we can buy more food later,” he says as he leaves.

Once Sunny is gone, Parse clears his throat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jeff says.

Parse looks at him for a moment, and Jeff is absolutely certain that Parse can see right through him, but in the end he only says, “All right,” and starts talking about when they’ll be going to the rink and about their game tomorrow, and Jeff feels himself relaxing a little bit as Parse talks about how to get past the Schooners’ defense.

Jeff isn’t sure if that’s what helps him in the end, but he does get past the Schooners’ defense. Parse scores twice after that and the Schooners never recover.

After the game, Sunny picks up the bowler hat that the Aces pass on from player to player. He got in Providence; it was his first game in a while and he walked out of it with a shutout. “All right, Swoops, Bennie, thanks for the goals. Those were great, best goals ever, seriously, but I think tonight this is going to Parse.”

Parse gives Sunny a hug and takes the hat from him, bows and puts it on. Jeff can’t help but wonder how many times Parse has been handed that hat as he cheers along with the rest of the guys.

Jeff does what he can at practice the next day, and Coach Martinez gives him one of those nods – _Good job, that’s what I like to see_ – but Jeff still isn’t convinced that he deserves to be here. He hates those thoughts and he hates that he can’t stop thinking them, no matter what he does. He scored less than twenty-four hours ago, and he knows he’s getting way ahead of himself, but he wants someone to pat him on the back and finally, _finally_ say, “Troy, you can stay.”

He’s expecting too much; he knows that, too.

“Do you mind if I cook tonight?” he asks on the way home. He cooks when he feels terrible for whatever reason; it takes his mind off things and maybe it’ll cheer him up, at least a little bit.

“I’m going out with Amy tonight,” Sunny whines.

“Invite her over,” Jeff says.

“No thanks, I don’t want her to leave me for your Disney prince looks and your out of this world cooking.” Sunny shakes his head. “Nope, not worth the risk… Anyway, I promised she’d have me all to herself tonight and tomorrow.”

Parse snorts.

“Parsie, babe, are you jealous?”

“Not even a little bit,” Parse says. “Swoops, what are you cooking?”

“I don’t know, but I’m open to suggestions.”

“Make sure there’s leftovers, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Parse says, and reaches over to pat Sunny’s thigh, “we’re gonna share those with the team tomorrow.”

“Fuck off, we have the day off tomorrow.”

“Maybe we’ll share it with the neighbors, then,” Jeff says.

Parse starts laughing and Sunny whacks him. “I hate both of you.”

Jeff does make a lot of food that evening – so much that there’d be enough for the neighbors _and_ for Sunny. And they’re not actually giving anything to the neighbors, so Sunny is going to be over the moon when he comes home tomorrow.

“Wanna watch a game later?” Parse asks. He’s watching Jeff cook like he did last time, leaning against the counter, all casual.

As Jeff stirs, the pasta and chicken and veggies, Parse starts fiddling with his Aces cap. Parse’s hair is completely ridiculous. Even when he’s wearing a cap, there’s always a few strands poking out, but it works for him. Objectively speaking.

“Sure,” Jeff says. He glances over at Parse. Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he still remembers that phone call from a month ago and Jeff isn’t one to pry, but he’s curious. “You don’t have anywhere to be tonight?”

“Nah,” Parse says.

“Have you met Sunny’s girlfriend?”

“A couple of times.” Parse stares into the pan on the stove for a moment. “She’s cool.”

“Cool,” Jeff echoes.

“You got a girlfriend in Reno?”

“Nope,” Jeff says. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend once, when he was fifteen, and quickly realized that having girlfriends wasn’t really his thing. At all.

He’s never had a boyfriend either. He just had secrets.

“Well, you can always steal Sunny’s girl…” Parse grins. “You know, with your Disney prince face.”

“I do not have a Disney prince face.”

Parse tilts his head. “Huh, you kinda do.”

“Shut it or you’re not getting any food.”

Parse zips his lips shut and shuffles away, quietly humming _Once Upon a Dream_.

*

“Shit, this is so good.”

“Come on, why’re you shtill sounding surprished,” Sunny says and bits of food go flying everywhere.

“Dude, you’re disgusting,” Jeff mutters.

“Parsh’s right,” Sunny says, still not held back by the food in his mouth, “s’so good, though.”

They got back from a roadie in California about an hour ago and Jeff was so agitated that he started cooking, Parse and Sunny both hovering in the kitchen to see what he was making and if there was enough for all three of them.

It’s a good thing they didn’t know that he was stress-cooking.

No goals for him in California. One assist. That’s it. It’s not enough.

He doesn’t click with the other guys on his line. It’s not their fault, and it works well enough, but it doesn’t work as well as it could. Jeff knows what it’s like to have chemistry with someone on the ice, and this isn’t it. It’s still nothing but a temporary solution, and it’s not going to earn him a spot on the Aces’ roster.

Jeff knows he can be better than this. He was better in Reno.

So, the next day, when everyone’s filing off the ice after practice, Jeff skates up to Parse and says, “Can I stay on the ice for a little while longer? I’ll get home somehow, I just want to…” He trails off and shrugs. It’s not totally unusual that some of them will stick around for a little while longer after the end of practice, but Jeff has always left with Parse and Sunny so far.

“You wanna stay?” Parse asks. “Why?”

“Because…” Because he wants to _stay_. In Vegas. There’s a good chance that the Aces are going to playoffs again this year. And there’s an ever better chance that they’ll make it further than the second round this time. “I know I can do better.”

Parse stares at him for an uncomfortably long moment. His eyes look weirdly blue today. Sometimes Jeff feels like they change colors. “Okay,” Parse says eventually and nods. “How can I help?”

“What?”

Parse nudges him with his stick. “How,” he says, “can I help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Parse skates backwards, gets himself a puck and passes it to Jeff, “we’ll figure it out.”

*

Parse keeps staying on the ice with him after practice. Sunny, once he realizes what they’re doing, occasionally stays with them as well and they try out plays with him in net.

The Aces leave for a game in Chicago, come back for a game in Vegas, leave again for a game in Anaheim and one in LA, and they win three of those games, one in overtime, but all three wins are struggles, even though at least some of them shouldn’t have been. They blew leads, made too many mistakes, and Coach Martinez isn’t happy.

Jeff isn’t surprised when Martinez waves him over before practice, his expression grim. Well, that’s his default look, but Jeff is almost convinced that he’s about to be told that he’ll sit out the next game.

“Troy…” Martinez says, then he waves over Parse. And Gabe. “I’m trying the three of you out on the same line. I’ve already talked to Evans, he’s back in his usual spot.”

Gabe only nods and skates away, because nothing’s changed for him.

Martinez turns to say something to Sunny and so Jeff is left staring at Parse, trying to figure out what exactly he did right to end up on the first line with Kent Parson.

Parse grins and gives Jeff a pat on the back. “Okay, so, the rules for playing on my line are simple… One, you don’t score, I do– Geez, Swoops, I’m kidding, don’t look at me like that.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He is _not_ fine.

“Hey, you deserve this, all right?” Parse pats him on the back again, only this time his hand stays there. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“At least one of us does.”

“Swoops,” Parse says, “this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Wow, I thought we were friends already, my bad. I guess I know who’s not getting any pasta tonight.”

“No, of course we were friends.”

“Uh-huh…” Jeff grins and skates away.

Kent catches up to him quickly and grabs the back of his jersey. “Swoops, wait, you’re my best friend.”

“Now you’re lying.”

“I–” Parse lets go of Jeff’s jersey. “Fine, so don’t give me any pasta,” he says and skates away to talk to Bennie at the other side of the rink.

“What’s up with Parse?” Parker asks as he skates past Jeff.

“No idea,” Jeff says.

The thing is, Parse has his moods. Jeff is starting to understand that. He’s mostly noticed at home, though, not at the rink. And sure, not even Kent Parson is perfect, but sometimes Jeff wonders if there’s something he’s missing.

*

“All right, guys, great game, good job everyone.” Fred holds up the bowler. He’s one of the vets, one of the guys who gave Jeff tips before his first ever game with the Aces. He wears an A, and has since long before Jeff first got called up. He’s one of the calmest people Jeff has ever met. Off the ice, at least. “This one’s going to Swoops today.”

Fred comes walking towards him across the locker room and Jeff needs those precious seconds it takes Fred to make his way past the rest of the team, all of them trying to hug him and pat him on the back as he walks past, to convince himself that Fred really said his name. Fred gives him a hug and puts the hat on top of Jeff’s Aces cap. “Well done, kid,” he says.

“Thanks,” Jeff says.

“Hey…” Parse appears next to him – he scored two goals too, one with an assist from Jeff. It was only their third game on the same line, but maybe in this case it’s not too early to say that this is working out pretty well for them. They somehow understand each other. Jeff finds it easy to anticipate what Parse is going to do and Parse doesn’t just make hockey look easy, he makes it easy for those who play with him as well.

“Before you take it off…” Parse holds up his phone. “You can send the photo to your mom.”

“Shut up.”

“You constantly send pictures to your mom, don’t tell me she wouldn’t be _delighted_ about this.”

“Fine,” Jeff says.

Parse takes a picture of him, then one of the Aces’ social media guys takes another one, this time of him and Parse.

Later, when they’re back home, they sit down on the couch together, the three of them, Parse on his phone, Sunny and Jeff playing video games.

“I’m so glad you’re here now, Swoops,” Sunny says. “Parse is shit at Mario Kart and playing against him gets boring after a while.”

“At least I’ve never run over a trash can with my actual car.”

Sunny rolls his eyes. “I swear that trash can wasn’t there before.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Are you texting a girl or are you on Twitter again?” Sunny asks and throws a pillow at Parse.

Now it’s Parse’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You know, Amy has a bunch of friends who–”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Parse says and gets up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Already?”

“I’m tired.”

“Dude, we’re, like, two wins away from a playoff spot, you can’t be tired now. Show must go on.”

“Guess what, I’m going to sleep now, so I won’t be tired when we win that game on Friday.”

“Kids these days,” Sunny says to Jeff. “All responsible and shit. Anyway, the sooner you guys clinch that spot, the sooner I get to play, because Martinez is sure as hell gonna rest Danny.”

“We’ll do our best,” Parse says and gives the back of Sunny’s head a flick.

Sunny grins. “Swoops, how does it feel to know that you’re gonna get to play in the actual Stanley Cup playoffs, huh?”

“I don’t even know if I’ll get to stay yet,” Jeff says.

“Yeah, you’re staying,” Parse and Sunny say at the same time.

Jeff takes a deep breath. He’s _staying_.

*

“Listen,” Gabe says, his eyes wide. He’s a little drunk. They’re all a little drunk, but they’re officially going to the playoffs, so they’re allowed to be. “What if we play against the Schooners in the first round and no one can concentrate on scoring goals because of Landberg? When I was still playing for the Schooners, my sister always said…” Gabe tosses his hair over his shoulder. “ _He’s so hot, Gabe, he could have everything from me, can you please get me his number,_ and I was always like, Anna, please, you’re not dating a hockey player, because I know what we’re like…”

“Landberg isn’t even that hot,” Jeff mumbles. He doesn’t think about what he’s saying, it just sort of slips out. It’s true, though; Landberg isn’t that hot. He has nice hair, but only when he hasn’t been wearing a goalie mask for three periods of hockey.

The guys don’t notice that Jeff almost gave himself away. He should probably write all that beer a thank you note.

Parse gasps. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that.”

“Blasphemy.”

“Utter bullshit, Swoops.”

Jeff only sighs and tells himself to keep his mouth shut.

He wonders sometimes… if he’s the only one. Honestly, he _can’t_ be the only one in the league, but maybe he’s the only one on the Las Vegas Aces.

Jeff has heard the rumors about Parse and Zimmermann, of course, but that’s the sort of bullshit people make up when someone is successful and they want to harm their reputation somehow. There’s probably not even a smidgen of truth in any of it. He’s not going to ask Parse if it’s true or anything.

Still, it’d be reassuring to know that he’s not alone in this.

*

Jeff can’t decide what feels better – being handed the Stanley Cup by Sunny or being told that he can find himself a place to live in Vegas for next season.

*

“I think I bought a house,” is the first thing Parse says when he calls Jeff a few weeks into the off-season. It’s late and Jeff has already curled up in bed. In his old bedroom. He had the Cup a few days ago and now he’s hanging out with his parents for a bit before he goes back to Vegas.

Everything – Vegas, hockey, his teammates – seemed weirdly far away during the last couple of days. Not anymore, though, now that he has Parse on the phone.

“You _think_? Parse, no offense, but that’s something you should be sure about.”

“No, seriously, I did buy a house.”

Jeff sits up. “You bought a house in Vegas?”

“No, I bought a house in Malibu. Thought it’d be nice, you know? Who needs hockey anyway?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve won the Cup, so…”

“Exactly.”

“So you’re back in Vegas already, huh?”

“Yeah, being home was nice, but, you know… families…”

Actually, Jeff doesn’t know what Parse is trying to say, because Parse doesn’t exactly talk much about his family. His dad didn’t come on the Aces’ dads’ trip, though, and Parse never told anyone why.

“I dropped in at that offseason hockey camp the Aces set up for the kids every year, it was pretty cute,” Parse says.

“Pretty cute, huh?”

“Kids are so funny. We should do more stuff with kids. You know, like, we as a team.”

“I’ve seen you give at least ten sticks to kids during playoffs.”

“I meant something on a larger scale. I’ll think about it. Anyway…”

“You bought a house,” Jeff says. “Because Sunny is moving in with his girlfriend and instead of finding a new roommate you–”

“I mean, I’m not going anywhere else, right? So I thought I might as well go for it. It has a pool. And a hot tub. It’s kinda big, it has a bunch of guest rooms, and I’ll set up a TV room and I can invite the guys over because there’s loads of space.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m coming back to Vegas in about two weeks, you gotta show me around then.”

“Cool. I’ll try not to buy any more houses until then. And maybe when you come by I can show you my kitchen and you can make some pasta?”

Jeff laughs and says, “All right, Parse.”

*

“I might have done something stupid,” Parse says when he opens the door for Jeff.

“I’ve been here for one second.”

“I know.”

“You could have said hello first.”

“Hello, Jeffrey, so good to see you, come in,” Parse says. “How’s it going, you ask? Well, Jeffrey, I might have done something stupid.”

“Stop calling me Jeffrey,” Jeff says as he walks in through the door. It looks like Parse now has more furniture than he did last week when Jeff was here for the first time. “What did you do?”

“Right, so, I was bored…”

“Oh boy.”

“You didn’t have time to hang out with me,” Parse says and gives him the evil side-eye.

“I had to get stuff for my own apartment. You know, the apartment where I’m going to live?”

Parse throws his hands up and stalks off.

“Seriously,” Jeff says and follows him, “why are you like this?”

“Why am I like what?”

“You know what I mean.”

Parse only huffs at him.

“Whatever,” Jeff says, because the moods of Kent Parson will forever be a mystery to him. “What did you do?”

That puts a smile back on Parse’ face. And, okay, whatever has him grinning like that can’t be that bad. “I’ll show you.”

“You didn’t get some Britney lyrics tattooed on your ass, right?”

“Stop dissing Britney.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t appreciate her,” Parse says and shoves him into the living room, towards the couch. “Look…”

“Where?”

“Right there,” Parse whispers.

“I don’t know what– Oh.”

It’s a tiny kitten, curled up on a pillow, fast asleep. “You fucking didn’t.”

“Shhhh,” Parse says. “Isn’t she adorable?”

“You got a cat?”

“Well, duh.”

“You were bored and _got a cat_ ,” Jeff says. “Do you even know anything about cats?”

“I bought a book.” Parse reaches out to scratch the kitten behind the ears. “Her name is Kit Purrson.”

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, at least you didn’t name her Britney.”

“Seriously, stop dissing Britney,” Parse says and elbows him in the ribs. “If you don’t stop, you don’t get to hold Kit.”

“What makes you think I– Never mind, I’m not saying another word about Britney, okay?”

“Okay,” Parse says and picks up Kit to hand her to Jeff.

She looks even tinier when she’s sitting on Jeff’s palm. He holds her against his chest to make sure she won’t get scared, and sits down, and suddenly Jeff wants to get a cat too, even though he’s more of a dog person.

“You wanna stay for dinner and watch a movie?” Parse asks.

“Fine, but I’m not cooking.”

“That’s rude, but I’ll forgive you if you admit that Kit is the cutest cat you’ve ever seen.”

Jeff sighs. “She really kinda is.”

“Right?” Parse smiles, and it’s a smile Jeff doesn’t see on his face too often. He hasn’t known Parse for that long, but he lived with him for months, so he knows that it’s a special occasion kind of smile. “I set up an Instagram account for her.”

“You what?”

“You should get one, too.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll set it up for you.”

“I think I’m good.”

“You’re gonna miss out on some quality content, dude,” Parse says and pulls up a picture on his phone. It’s Kit, curled up in one of Parse’s Aces caps. “See?”

“You’re gonna set an account up for me no matter what I say, right?”

Parse smiles and it’s another of the special occasion ones. “Aw Swoops,” he says, “you know me so well.”

*

“I’m here with the Las Vegas Aces’ dream team, Kent Parson and Jeffrey Troy,” Melanie says. “I’ve been talking to a bunch of the guys about what they’d get each other for Valentine’s Day, do you have any suggestions? Jeff, what would you get for Kent?”

The microphone is in front of Jeff’s face much too fast. He has absolutely no idea what to say. “Uh… I guess I’d get Parse tickets for a Britney concert.”

“What do say, Kent? Good Valentine’s Day present?”

“I mean, I love Britney, but… for Valentine’s Day? You gotta go all out, man. Do something more romantic.”

“So what would you get for Jeff?” Melanie asks.

“Well, I know that Swoops secretly loves bubble baths, so…”

“Yes to bubble baths, just as long as you’re not there.”

Parse shakes his head at the camera. “This is how he treats his one true love on Valentine’s Day.”

It’s not even Valentine’s Day yet. They’re filming this a few days in advance and for some reason they always pull Jeff into these things. Apparently people like him. Apparently they like it even better when Parse is there too.

Admittedly, they do work well together on the ice, so maybe they also work well together in front of the camera. Still, Jeff isn’t that good at all that media stuff, or at least not as good as Parse.

Melanie is still laughing when she turns back to Jeff. “Jeff, what’s the worst thing you ever got for Valentine’s Day?”

“I–” Jeff freezes when someone wraps his arms around him from behind.

“We are now also joined by Michael Sunley,” Melanie says without missing a beat.

“You should probably ask Swoops about the worst present he ever _gave_ to anyone.”

The truth is, Jeff has never given a Valentine’s Day present to anyone. Because he’s never been in a serious relationship with anyone. It’s the price he’s paying so he can play hockey in peace. He’s okay with that.

Most of the time.

*

“I can’t believe…”

Jeff looks up to see if Parse is going to finish that sentence. Parse is sitting at the breakfast bar, or, Jeff should say, slumped over the breakfast bar, head resting on his arms, eyes bleary.

It’s late. No, actually it’s early.

Jeff is stuffing leftover food into Parse’s fridge.

“…that you made me a birthday cake.” Ah. There is the rest of that sentence.

“Well, it’s your birthday,” Jeff says. Technically, it’s the day after now, but he’s not getting into an argument with drunk Parse. “People get birthday cakes for their birthdays.”

“And it had candles.”

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “A lot of birthday cakes do.”

“Twenty-three candles.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s how old you are.”

“Can you believe I’m that old?”

“Shut up, you’re not _that_ old.”

Parse grins. “Right, you’re even older than me.”

Jeff glares at him and pushes the fridge door shut. If it all falls out when Parse opens it tomorrow, well, that’s not his problem. He just wants to go to bed. At least he didn’t drink much, mainly because Parse has a pretty big pool and there were a lot of pretty drunk people at the party. And he didn’t want to keep Parse from having his fun, so Jeff kept an eye out for people who shouldn’t go anywhere near that pool anymore.

Parse’s house is almost empty now, but Jeff saw a few people sleeping on the couch. It’s just guys from the team, no one he needs to kick out.

“Come on,” Jeff says and tugs Parse off his chair, “time to go to bed.”

Parse makes an unhappy noise and slumps against Jeff, but other than that he doesn’t move.

“It’s, like, five in the morning. Please go to bed so I can go to bed.”

“You’re staying, right?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten that I promised you breakfast,” Jeff says. He manages to push Parse out of the kitchen and drags him up the stairs.

“Where’s Kit?” Parse asks.

“In her room,” Jeff says, because _of course_ Parse’s cat has her own room.

“Good,” Parse says. “Swoops, you’re… can you…”

“What?”

“Hm…”

“Whatever,” Jeff says and shoves Parse into his room.

He was going to dump Parse on his bed and then find someplace to sleep – maybe the couch in Parse’s TV room. But now he can’t, because Parse is clinging to him like a fucking koala.

“Parse, come on…”

“You’re a good friend, Swoops. You made me a cake and you’re… you’re a good dude.”

“Thanks, Parse,” Jeff says and pats Parse on the bag. It’s kind of adorable how clingy Parse gets when he’s drunk, but really just _kind of_ because Jeff is tired and wants to sleep.

“I know I’m a bad friend sometimes,” Parse whispers.

“You’re not.” Parse can get moody, but if Jeff didn’t spend a lot of time with him outside the rink, he might have not even noticed. Parse mostly keeps it off the ice if he’s having a bad day. Mostly. He slips up; everyone does.

“No, I am. I let people down, y’know, I always let everyone down. I let Jack down, I didn’t…”

Jeff has no idea what to say. Parse doesn’t mention Jack Zimmermann. Ever. Everyone who ever brings him up and tries to ask Parse questions about him gets nothing more than a cold look and a curt answer. Yes, Jack plays at college now. Yes, he talks to Jack sometimes. No, he doesn’t know what Jack is doing after he graduates.

“Hey,” Jeff says and puts his arms around Parse, “people make mistakes sometimes.”

Parse doesn’t reply, so Jeff hugs him for a minute or two. He and Parse hang out all the time, but Parse has never said anything about Jack to him either. There’s a lot more to the story than whatever Jeff read about in the media all those years ago, and whatever happened is still hurting Parse, that much is clear.

It’s bad enough that Parse almost lost his best friend.

And, sure, sometimes Jeff wonders why they aren’t best friends anymore, and why Parse gets that despondent look on his face whenever people mention Jack, and maybe someday Parse is going to tell him the whole story. Not tonight, though.

“Time to sleep,” Jeff says, but Parse is still holding on. Maybe he needed a hug. Jeff is going to try to remember that. He’ll hug Parse a little more often.

He eventually manages to coax Parse into letting go and nudges him over to his bed. Parse faceplants right in the middle with a groan. He’s going to feel like absolute shit tomorrow morning, or whenever the hell he’ll crawl out of bed, and Jeff isn’t sure if he actually feels bad for him.

“Take off your fucking flip-flops,” Jeff says. Parse does not take off his fucking flip-flops, so Jeff does it for him. “You okay?”

Parse doesn’t answer, he just grabs Jeff by the wrist.

“Oh my God, please stop being difficult.”

“’m sorry,” Parse says, “I didn’t mean to, please don’t go.”

“I swear, you’re still getting your pancakes tomorrow. I’ll be here, I promise. Are you gonna let go?”

“Okay,” Parse whispers, and lets go.

*

“Parse will be doing interviews until he has to go back on the ice for morning skate tomorrow, huh?” Bennie mumbles to Jeff.

Jeff snorts, although Parse wouldn’t be in the middle of that media scrum anymore if he didn’t want to be. It’s the beginning of the season and Parse has been answering questions about having Sunny as their new starting goalie, and about all the new guys on the team, how they fit in, if they fit in the way Parse thought they would, and right now he is talking about how great everyone is. Sometimes Jeff feels like it’s Parse’s favorite thing to do.

“You’re only two games into the season, but is there anything you’d like to improve on?”

“I’ve said this before, but we’d obviously like to make it to the finals this time,” Parse says, and smirks, and a few of the reporters who are gathered around him chuckle.

“You and Jeff Troy have had a great start to the season, why do you think the two of you work so well together on the ice?”

Okay, so, Jeff doesn’t usually listen in on Parse’s interviews to see if Parse says anything about him, but it’s not like he’s going to walk away now, right?

“I feel like Jeff and I understand each other, you know? He knows where I’ll be on the ice, and he goes where I can’t be. He also clicked with Gabe right away and he’s a great player and I’m lucky to have him on my line.”

“His style is different from Jack Zimmermann’s.”

“Yeah, it is,” Parse only says, and you could mistake it for a quip, but Jeff can tell that Parse isn’t in the mood to talk about Zimmermann.

“Does that influence the way you play with Jeff Troy?”

“Well, no two players are the same, but playing with Jeff works for me and I think that’s all that matters.”

“How are you approaching the game against the Schooners next week after losing against them in the playoffs last season?”

“I’m hungry,” Bennie says. “Wanna go grab a bite?”

“I was gonna wait for Parse.”

“Attached at the hip, the two of you,” Bennie says, shaking his head. “I’ll go find a snack. Tell Parse to hurry up.”

Parse sort of hurries up, at least as much as he’s inclined to – Parse doesn’t like being told what to do, but he’s probably also starving, so he doesn’t take extra long.

Jeff tries to talk to him as they go find Bennie, but Parse is clearly lost in thought and only hums in reply. Something’s bugging him; Jeff knows that face. Parse won’t say anything about it, though, because Parse is pretty much allergic to talking about his feelings, at least if the feelings he’s having have nothing to do with hockey.

If Jeff had to guess, he’d say it has something to do with the questions about Zimmermann.

“Do you wanna come over for pasta tonight?” Jeff asks.

If Parse is willing to let himself be cheered up with food, he’ll say yes. If he’s not feeling it and wants to sulk on his own, he’ll probably snap at Jeff right about now for thinking that he needs to be cheered up. Parse shoots him a look that says, _I know what you’re doing but I won’t admit it because I’m currently pretending that nothing is wrong_ , or something along the lines of that, but then he shrugs. “Sure.”

Maybe Jeff is having ulterior motives, but he won’t even think about that until tonight.

Parse goes home after they leave the rink later on, allegedly to check on Kit, even though Jeff knows that Kit is just fine, and Jeff gives him a hug before they part ways in the parking garage. It’s a quick one, one of those weird one-armed side-hug things.

He’s been hugging Parse a lot more recently. Parse doesn’t have a girlfriend, hasn’t had one ever since Jeff came to Vegas almost two years ago, even though there were rumors aplenty, and he doesn’t have anyone staying with him right now either, because their lone rookie is living with Fred. Jeff thinks that maybe even a guy like Kent Parson, who has a billion friends and people surrounding him all the time, gets lonely sometimes.

Parse isn’t complaining about all the hugging, so Jeff isn’t stopping. Sometimes Jeff is the one who needs a hug and Parse is surprisingly cuddly. Jeff broke things off with his acquaintance in Reno when he moved to Vegas and now he doesn’t have the guts to go home with a guy when he’s out with his teammates.

He doesn’t want to ruin this for himself.

When Parse comes over, Jeff makes his aunt’s secret pasta sauce because he knows it’s Parse’s favorite and Parse pretends to help by trying it every two seconds. They eat at Jeff’s kitchen table – his apartment doesn’t have a dining room and his kitchen isn’t even half as fancy as Parse’s, but Jeff loves this place.

“D’you wanna watch a game?” Parse asks. “Or maybe a movie?”

“Pretty sure the Schooners are playing tonight.”

“Pretty sure they are.”

Parse is already in a much better mood than he was earlier, so maybe now would be a good time for Jeff to bring something up that he’s wanted to bring up for a while.

Instead, he tells Parse to go put on the game while he takes care of the dishes.

He tries to give himself a pep talk, but it doesn’t work that well.

Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe he should wait a little longer. But for how long is he supposed to wait? He trusts Parse, that’s not the problem. It’s just hard. And he won’t be sure if it’s the right thing to do until he actually does it.

When he joins Parse on the couch, the game isn’t on yet and Parse is looking at something on his phone. Probably checking Instagram.

“Hey, Parse,” Jeff says. He’s going to dip his toe in, and then he can still make up his mind.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Parse frowns and puts down his phone. “Yeah?”

“Hypothetically,” Jeff says, “if you had a gay teammate…”

Parse’s frown only deepens, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Would you mind?” Jeff asks. It’s a ridiculous thing to ask, Jeff realizes that now. Parse is a smart guy, he’ll know that there’s nothing hypothetical about this question, he’ll know that Jeff is talking about himself, and he’ll call him out on it.

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” Parse says after a moment. That’s it. He doesn’t ask any questions.

“Okay,” Jeff says.

“Okay,” Parse echoes. He’s still looking at Jeff, like he’s waiting.

Jeff wants to look away, but he can’t. He’s made it this far; he could tell Parse _everything_.

“I swear,” Parse says quietly, earnestly, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do I really have to say it?” Jeff asks. He hates saying it. He’s only said it once so far, to his mom.

Parse shakes his head.

“Okay,” Jeff says again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Parse says.

Nothing changes after that. Nothing changes, and Jeff has never been this relieved in his entire life.

*

“I’m bored…”

“I know,” Jeff says.

“Swoops.”

“What?”

“I’m bored.”

Jeff only sighs. He stayed in Vegas for Parse’s birthday, a lot of the guys did, but Jeff is going home in a couple of days to spend some time with his family. He’s pretty much spent all of last week at Parse’s place, but he’s definitely going to leave. He already has the plane tickets. “What are you gonna do when I go home on Saturday?”

“I don’t know, I’ll probably just be bored until you come back.”

“I guess there’s no point in telling you _again_ that you could come home with me.”

Parse only huffs and grabs the remote. “Movie?”

“Fine,” Jeff says. There’s also no point in pretending that he’s going back to his apartment today. He’ll probably sleep right here on this couch.

Last night they both slept in the TV room, Parse’s head pillowed on Jeff’s stomach when he fell asleep. In the morning, Parse had scooted away a little, but he was still pretty much curled against Jeff, and Jeff remembered how much he missed sleeping next to someone.

On TV, there’s some hockey highlights show on, and right now Bad Bob Zimmermann is lifting a Stanley Cup with the Pittsburgh Penguins. Parse changes the channel.

Parse knows Bad Bob. Which is hardly surprising because he was best friends with his son, but still. Bad Bob showed up at an Aces game in Montreal last season and Parse introduced them. Jeff has a picture of himself with Bad Bob Zimmermann, who said very nice things about him. Jeff doesn’t remember what exactly he said, though, he was ridiculously star struck and then spent the rest of the evening babbling about it to Parse, who found it all extremely amusing.

It’s hard to tell how Parse will react sometimes. In Montreal he seemed to be happy to see Jack’s dad, asked how Jack was doing, nodded politely when he received the vaguest of answers, and now he looks like he wants to throw something at his TV.

“Parse…” Jeff says tentatively. He’s been telling himself that he won’t ask, because Parse will talk to him if he wants to, but maybe he should at least tell him that he’s willing to listen.

Jeff has told Parse a lot of things that he wouldn’t tell just anyone. They spend so much time together, things slip out here and there. They share a room on roadies too and the guys are constantly chirping them about living in each other’s pockets, but Parse still– Well, it’s not like hasn’t told Jeff anything about himself. He told him about his dad, what it was like when he left, how his mom had to find a second job.

They don’t have conversations like that often, though. It’s what Jeff likes about being friends with Parse. He never expects Jeff to open up about what’s bothering him, but he’ll listen when Jeff needs someone to talk to.

Now, Parse tenses next to him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Jeff says.

“You want to know, though, don’t you?” Parse asks. It’s verging on vicious.

Jeff isn’t having any of that. Parse gets like that sometimes, but Jeff doesn’t feel like playing along. “Sure, maybe I want to know, so I can understand why you’re upset, because I only know half the story and I can’t even imagine what you went through, maybe I want to know so I can help. But by all means, get all snappy and pretend that I’m just here for the gossip. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

“I wasn’t trying to say–”

“Well, it sounded a lot like you were saying that–”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I am.”

“You know, you… you do this thing, when things aren’t going your way, you try to piss people off.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. And it’s fucking stupid.”

Parse glares at him. “Well, it’s not like you have to be here or anything. If I’m so fucking stupid, why are you even here?”

“See, you just did it again. I’m not buying into that bullshit. If you don’t want to talk about Zimmermann, why don’t you say so? I can deal with a no.”

Parse leans back with a huff. He won’t look at Jeff.

Jeff isn’t even that mad at him, but he’s a little mad at himself for saying all the wrong things. He’ll try this again. “Parse, you’re my friend, okay? And as your friend, I want you to know that you can talk to me. That’s literally it.”

Parse doesn’t reply for a moment and picks at his phone case, chewing on his bottom lip. “How are you so good at saying stuff like that?”

“It’s a gift,” Jeff says and leans back as well. He nudges Parse’s arm. “Anyway…”

Parse shifts and then he’s an inch closer to Jeff, but he’s not quite touching him. “What they said about Jack in the media… Most of that was bullshit.”

“I figured,” Jeff says.

Parse nods and for a moment it seems like that’s all he’s going to say on the matter. He fiddles with the TV remote, plucks a piece of lint off a pillow, then he says, “I found him.”

“What?”

“When he nearly– I found him. I called his parents.”

“Shit, Parse.” Jeff just wants to pull Parse into a hug now and not let go of him for about an hour, that’s how sad he looks, but Parse isn’t done talking yet.

Parse tugs his fingers through his hair and makes it even messier. “I should have said something. You know, before… I could tell something was wrong. I knew.”

Jeff puts an arm around him then. He suddenly doesn’t feel qualified enough to have this conversation with Parse. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and make it worse. “You were kids, Parse.”

“Still…” Parse slumps against him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Have you ever talked to anyone about this, you know, a–”

“A shrink? Hell no.”

“Maybe you–”

“I won’t,” Parse says, and his tone allows no arguing.

“Okay,” Jeff says quietly and pulls Parse a little closer and he curls against him with a sigh.

Jeff feels like there’s still more to that story, but he’s actually surprised that Parse told him this much. There won’t be any more heartfelt talks tonight. Parse doesn’t move to turn the TV back on or to put on a movie, he just stays cuddled up to Jeff for a while. Jeff is well aware that not every guy on the team would do this, as tactile as some of them are. They’d be scared of the implications, especially if they knew that Jeff is into guys.

Parse didn’t mention it again after Jeff told him. Only once, when they were out with the guys, Bennie flirting with a girl at the bar, Gabe in the middle of the dancefloor, clearly popular with all the girls around him, Parse sidled up to Jeff and said, “I’d cover for you, you know?”

“No need,” Jeff said. Back then he didn’t want to risk it. Now he’s starting to think that if he got another chance, he might not care all that much.

He’s starting to feel lonely. Maybe that’s why he hangs out at Parse’s so much. He’s probably keeping Parse from hanging out with girls right now, but Parse would kick him out if he wanted some alone time with someone other than one of his teammates.

“Hey, Swoops…” Parse whispers. “Would it really be okay if I came home with you? Just for a week or something?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I’ll have to talk to my cat sitter.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Parse looks up and smiles at him. Jeff hasn’t seen him smile like that since before they lost Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals a couple of weeks ago.

*

Jeff has no idea what time it is when Parse sneaks into their hotel room, but he doesn’t even have to check to know that it’s way past their curfew. Parse doesn’t usually pull shit like this, even though he wouldn’t get in trouble for it, because he’s Parse and the Aces need him on the ice.

Even though Jeff is sort of curious, he decides that he isn’t going to ask Parse what he was up to. He’s going to go right back to sleep. Jeff is already drifting when Parse finally gets into bed. He’s wide awake again a moment later when he hears Parse sniffle. He doesn’t get worried until the third sniffle.

Now, Jeff could ignore it, which is probably what Parse would want him to do, but that’s not who Jeff is. He _can’t_ ignore it. He’d hate himself for it. “Parse,” Jeff says, “you okay?”

Parse sighs. The sheets rustle. Then he clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“If you wanna talk about it, you have, like, ten seconds, otherwise I’m going back to sleep.”

At least a minute goes by until Parse says, “I went to Samwell.”

Jeff wasn’t serious about the thing with the ten seconds anyway. He wouldn’t even mind if Parse woke him up again to talk. Because Parse needs to talk to someone. What he’s doing right now, not quite ignoring what happened, but pushing it away as far as he can, only for bits and pieces to constantly resurface, it’s not working. He can’t keep going like this for much longer.

“To see Jack?” Jeff asks, even though he already knows the answer. It doesn’t sit well with him that Parse went to see an old teammate and didn’t tell him anything about it.

“Yeah, to see Jack,” Parse whispers. He takes a deep breath. “I’m so stupid.”

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“No,” Parse says.

“You want a hug?”

Parse doesn’t reply.

“You want me to shut up?”

Again, no reply.

Seconds tick by and they become minutes and Jeff stares into the darkness of their hotel room, at the vague shape of Parse in the other bed, wondering if there’s even anything he can say to make Parse feel better.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything, because sometimes Parse just needs a minute. Maybe to talk himself into saying anything at all.

It’s no different this time. Eventually, Parse shifts, and now when he talks, he sounds angry. “I thought he’d still care. Actually, I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking. I fucked it all up. I asked him to come play with me in Vegas. I thought, you know, him and me and you on the same line, that’d be– It would have been like it used to be.”

The thing is, in order to sign Zimmermann, the Aces would have to get rid of someone like Jeff. And part of him thinks that Parse would pick Zimmermann over him if he had to, and it hurts worse than anything else in the world. “He doesn’t want to play in Vegas?”

“No,” Parse says. The sheets rustle as he turns over, and Jeff knows that that’s it for their conversation.

He turns over as well, but he barely sleeps that night.

The next day, Parse is unusually quiet. No one comments on it, but everyone notices. No one but Jeff knows what’s going on and it’s eventually shrugged off as a bad day. Even their captain has one on occasion.

The day after, Parse is irritable. He snaps at Jeff. He snaps at Sunny. He snaps at Bennie.

When they’re back in Vegas, Parse’s mood still isn’t much better. It’s almost unnoticeable that something’s off when he’s playing, but off the ice, once you look hard enough, it’s plain as day. Eventually, Fred pulls Jeff aside for a talk between alternate captains or something. Jeff got the A after Jenkins retired last season and Parse threw him a party before their first game as captains. Fred said he was too old for this sort of thing, but he still showed up and his wife brought a huge cake.

“I’d talk to him,” Fred says to Jeff, “but I feel like he might actually listen when it’s you who does the talking.”

Jeff isn’t too sure about that, but he still goes to Parse’s place that evening. Unannounced. He’s prepared though. He’s carrying a Tupperware container full of pasta.

“What are you doing here?” Parse asks when he opens the door for Jeff.

Jeff hands over the pasta. “I’m not coming in. It’s just… You’re the captain, and you talk to people when you feel like they have problems. Now, I figured there’s no one to talk to you when you have a problem and that’s–”

“I don’t–”

“Let me finish,” Jeff says. “You do have a problem. And you need to talk to someone, Parse. I’m serious. Find someone to talk to. I’ll help you if you need me to, but sort it out, okay? I know you probably won’t care what I think you should do, but I don’t want this to affect the team.” It’s not just Parse’s team. It’s Jeff’s team, too. And he’s worried. Parse is the best friend Jeff has in Vegas and it wouldn’t sit right with him if he said nothing.

For a moment, Parse looks like he wants to slam the door shut in Jeff’s face. In the end, he only says, “Are you done?”

“I’m done,” Jeff says.

Parse goes back to normal soon after that. Maybe he’s just pretending, maybe he got over what happened at Samwell, but he’s definitely making an effort not to snap at anyone anymore. And apparently Parse and Jeff are also pretending that their conversation never happened. Parse even keeps Jeff’s Tupperware container, and Jeff honestly shouldn’t be surprised.

Then, two weeks later, Parse shows up at Jeff’s place and he wordlessly hands Jeff a business card.

“What–”

“That’s Dr. Everett,” Parse says. “She’s my therapist. Are you happy now?”

“Am I happy?”

“That’s what you wanted me to do, right? Find a shrink? I know you didn’t think I’d do it, but here we are.”

It seems that Jeff somehow tricked Parse into acting like a petulant toddler and doing the exact opposite of what Jeff thought he’d do. Parse literally found himself a therapist because Jeff said he wouldn’t. It’s completely ridiculous, but, well, it’s Parse.

*

Jeff can tell that Parse has seen the news when he arrives at the Aces’ practice rink in the morning. The look on Parse’s face is very carefully controlled, but not entirely blank.

Jack Zimmermann has signed a contract with the Providence Falconers. Parse already knew Jack wasn’t signing with Vegas, and Jeff has absolutely no idea what was going on in his head during the last couple of months, but sometimes Jeff thinks that Parse might have been hoping that Zimmermann would change his mind.

He clearly didn’t.

“Did you hear about Zimmermann?” Bennie says to Jeff.

Parse looks up even though it’s not directed at him. He schools his expression back into indifference within a second.

Jeff can’t even imagine what it feels like. Parse and Zimmermann were the best of friends, both of them ridiculously talented, both number one picks. They were obviously going to different teams, only then Zimmermann wasn’t drafted and now they had a chance to play together again. But Zimmermann signed with the Falconers and he most likely won’t ever end up in Vegas. There’s a good chance that the two of them will never play together again.

After practice, after he’s talked to the media, because apparently PR hate him today, Jeff goes and finds Parse. “Hey…”

“Don’t _hey_ me.”

“I’m not– What does that even mean?”

“You’re making that face and you said _hey_ in that tone… that _I’m an alternate captain and I’m here to help you_ tone. That _if you need anything, I’m here_ tone.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t need that right now.”

“What do you need?”

“Not _that_ ,” Parse says. “Just leave me alone.”

“I could come over and make lasagna tonight,” Jeff says.

“I don’t want your pity lasagna,” Parse says, rolling his eyes at him. He stares at his feet and folds his arms across his chest. “Okay, I actually do.”

“I’ll bring everything we need,” Jeff says. He gives Parse a nudge before he walks away to talk to Fred.

Jeff doesn’t bring up Zimmermann when he’s at Parse’s that evening. He doesn’t say _hey_. He makes lasagna and they eat together and they watch a movie and Jeff ends up with Kit in his lap and with Parse ranking Britney’s singles.

They put on a second movie and Kit is still fast asleep and Jeff eventually closes his eyes as well, just for a little while. It’s getting late and he should go home soon, but he’s also thinking that if he falls asleep on Parse’s ginormous TV room couch, he won’t have to make the effort of getting up and driving to his apartment.

“Swoops?”

“I’m not sleeping,” Jeff says. He wasn’t. Just resting his eyes.

“Good for you,” Parse says. “But… Jeff?”

See, it’s a bit like the _hey_ thing. _Jeff_ also comes with a certain tone. Serious conversation ahead. Jeff sits up, trying not to wake Kit. “Yeah?”

Parse is quiet for a moment. He’s holding a pillow and he hugs it closer. “If you had a gay teammate,” Parse finally says, his eyes firmly fixed on the TV, “would you mind?”

And of course Parse would know that Jeff doesn’t mind. Jeff is the gay teammate. Parse is doing the exact same thing that Jeff did. He’s not actually saying it. “No, I wouldn’t mind,” Jeff says. Thoughts flood his mind. Should he have seen this coming? Maybe. Does it make him a bad friend that he didn’t? Probably not. Unbidden, his thoughts turn to Jack Zimmermann. To what he was to Parse. It’s none of his business. It’s really not.

“I figured,” Parse says, and finally turns to look at him. “This isn’t gonna make things weird, right?”

“I’m not gonna hit on you just because you’re into dudes if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re still teammates,” Parse says. He’s using his captain voice and it’s hilarious.

Jeff snorts.

Parse gives him a look. “Seriously. I’m always worried that someone I hooked up with might get traded…”

“I’m sorry… What?”

“I know some guys on other teams. You know, guys who don’t mind sneaking away every now and then.”

“Holy shit.”

“Wait…” Parse frowns at him. “You don’t know any of the other guys?”

“No,” Jeff says. “Is there some sort of secret network or something?”

“Nah, but…” Parse shrugs. “What do you do, then? Hook up with random guys?”

“Random guys who know nothing about hockey, yeah. And not very often.”

Twice. He’s done that twice since he moved to Vegas. Fairly recently. And he’s still paranoid about it, so he doubts that it’ll happen again any time soon.

“Well, if you ever want anyone’s number…”

“Shut up,” Jeff says.

Parse laughs and winks at him. “I mean it.”

“Stop winking,” Jeff says, grinning. “We’re still teammates.”

“I wouldn’t wanna get with you anyway.”

“You’re so fucking rude.”

Parse smirks. “I bet you use way too much tongue when you kiss. Like, it’d be all slobbery.”

“Fuck off,” Jeff says and gives Parse a shove.

“Maybe I’d make out with you if I was drunk.”

“I don’t wanna have this conversation anymore,” Jeff says.

“So you wouldn’t make out with me if you were drunk? Who’s fucking rude now, Jeffrey?”

Jeff flips him off. Truth is, Parse is an attractive guy and Jeff would totally make out with him if he was drunk. But they _are_ teammates. They’re friends. And Jeff isn’t risking their friendship for drunk make-outs.

“Parse…”

Parse looks at him, almost wary. “What now?”

Maybe Parse is scared that Jeff will ask him about Zimmermann, but he won’t. He still doesn’t know the whole story, but Parse doesn’t need to tell him. He can put two and two together. This is clearly a secret he’s keeping and Jeff wouldn’t ask him to share it.

“I’m just wondering…” Jeff says. “Why’d you tell me now?”

Parse sighs and leans against him. “Because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know.”

“I–”

“Don’t get all sappy,” Parse mumbles.

“Fine, I won’t.” Jeff puts an arm around Parse. “Thanks for telling me anyway.”

“My therapist is going to be so proud of me.”

He’s still going. Voluntarily. Jeff gave him a nudge, but Parse is the one who decided to sign up for it, he’s the one who decided to keep going. Maybe because he knew that he needed it.

In any case, Jeff is proud of Parse, too.

*

They play against the Falconers in Providence and Parse is trying hard not to let go of his poker face when he’s asked about it before the game. The name Jack Zimmermann comes up so often that Jeff is starting to get annoyed by it, even though he has absolutely nothing against Zimmermann.

They win against the Falconers but Parse doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it all that much. He goes straight to bed after the game, says he’s tired, and turns off the lights.

They come home from their road trip with two wins and two losses, one of them in overtime. It’s not bad. It’s not like they lost four games a row. Parse is still strangely subdued, though. He’s not in a bad mood or anything, but he stays at the sidelines, doesn’t goof around during practice, and looks more serious than he usually does.

So Jeff goes out and buys the ingredients he needs for Parse’s favorite pasta sauce, gets some chicken, some chocolate so he can make brownies, and drives to Parse’s house. They have the day off tomorrow and Parse is probably at home, sulking on his own. He’s been posting a lot of pictures of Kit on Instagram.

It takes Parse a good minute to come to the door. He’s wearing sweatpants and a shirt. No cap. Maybe he was taking a nap.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Parse frowns at him. He doesn’t reply but asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I have all this stuff,” Jeff says and holds up his bags from the grocery store. He doesn’t usually show up unannounced; today is an exception.

Kit appears behind Parse and meows, and Parse picks her up, still frowning at Jeff. “Swoops, seriously, what the fuck?”

Jeff sighs. Whatever, he’ll just tell the truth. Parse appreciates it when people are straight with him. “You looked sad. I thought I’d make you pasta and maybe brownies and we can hang out and watch that stupid Britney Spears movie.”

“I’m not watching that movie with you, you’re not taking it seriously,” Parse says and steps back to let Jeff in.

“We can watch something else,” Jeff says, shrugs, and makes for Parse’s kitchen.

He has no idea how many times he’s cooked in here for Parse at this point. It’s always the same. He does most of the work and Parse watches and they talk, mostly about the things that _aren’t_ bothering them, and then Jeff makes Parse stir the sauce while he takes care of the brownies.

Only today Parse falls silent as he stirs, when he’d usually talk about what Britney is up to, or he’d talk about what cute thing Kit did that day, or something funny he saw on Twitter. Jeff doesn’t break the silence; it’s not an awkward one. It’s just unusual, that’s all. He mixes the brownie batter and pours it into a pan, occasionally glancing over at Parse, who’s entered a staring contest with the sauce.

For some reason, Jeff wants to hug him.

“Can I tell you something?” Parse says after a while.

The pasta is almost done and Jeff should see to that, but he doesn’t move. “Yeah, sure.”

“I texted Jack yesterday, you know, to apologize. For a lot of things. Like, I get that it’s something you should do in person, but maybe it’s better this way.” Parse sighs quietly and draws patterns into the sauce. “When we were on the ice together in Providence, it was weird. I don’t even know him anymore.”

“No?”

“No. He’s… some different person. He plays differently, too.”

“You’re probably a different person too, you know? It’s been years since you last played together.”

“Yeah, I guess. The thing is, I wanted him back.” Parse shoots a quick glance at Jeff. “You know, back on my team.” Maybe not just on the team, but that’s none of Jeff’s business. “But the guy I wanted back doesn’t even exist anymore. I kinda want to get to know him again, but I don’t think he’d want that. Can’t blame him.”

“Why?” Jeff asks.

“I said some things…” Parse shakes his head. “You’d hate me if I told you. You know, I didn’t even mean it, but I know I’ve said some shitty things to you too.”

“Parse–”

“No, I did. And you’re still making me pasta.”

“Yeah, I am.” Jeff gently tugs the wooden spoon out of Parse’s hand. “Listen, we’re friends. And you’ve said shitty things to me and I’ve said shitty things to you and I’m not about to turn this into a contest about who said the shittiest things, but you also gave me a ride to the rink when my car was broken and you send my nieces Aces merch for their birthdays and you let me cuddle your cat when I’m sad. I have no idea what went down with you and Zimmermann, but you’re not the same guy you used to be and I like the guy you are right now, so yeah, I’m making you pasta.”

“Fuck, you’re such a sap,” Parse mumbles. He sounds all choked up, so Jeff ignores the sauce and pulls Parse into a hug.

Their pasta turns soggy; it’s the worst Jeff has ever made. It doesn’t matter, though. What matters is that later on Parse laughs about the horrible pasta, what matters is that they curl up on the couch together and Parse whispers a quiet _thank you_ to him. What matters is that Parse doesn’t look sad anymore.

*

The Falconers come to Vegas a few weeks later for their second game against the Aces this season.

A couple of days before the game, Jeff finds Parse after practice. He sidles up to him and tries not to look like he’s about to say something Parse won’t like. “Hey…”

“Jeffrey, what’s with the _hey_ now?”

“I was just thinking… The game against the Falcs is next week.”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Parse gently elbows Jeff in the ribs. “I think I am. But if you wanna come over and cook pasta because you feel bad for me, I’m not stopping you.”

It’s good enough for Jeff. He wants to think that he’d know if Parse was lying.

When the Falcs are in town, he sees Parse and Zimmermann talking during warm-ups. They’re probably just saying hello, and Parse skates away again a minute later, but seeing them together still feels weird to Jeff.

A quiet voice at the back of Jeff’s mind points out that he might be a little jealous. Jeff tells the voice to shut the fuck up.

*

“I gotta go,” Jeff mumbles. It’s two in the morning. He should have gone home hours ago. Actually, he should have gone home this morning, but it’s summer and he doesn’t have anywhere to be until next week when he’s going to the Bahamas with a bunch of the guys.

“Why?” Parse asks. He has his head pillowed on Jeff’s thigh, which is why Jeff can’t get up and leave. “Just stay.”

“I already stayed yesterday.” Yesterday he and Parse had a few drinks too many and they ended up falling asleep on the couch together. It wasn’t the first time that happened, but Jeff is starting to notice certain things. He’s starting to _feel_ certain things.

He cares about Parse a little more than is good for him.

There wasn’t one specific moment when he realized, he never looked at Parse and went, _oh._ No light bulbs turning on over his head. No fireworks, no butterflies. It wasn’t anything like that. Gradually, as they spent more and more time together, Jeff found himself thinking about things he definitely wasn’t thinking about a year ago.

He has no idea when it started, but at this point he knows very well that he’s fucked.

When Parse kept pouring them drinks last night, Jeff caught himself looking at him, thinking about that one time Parse said he might make out with Jeff if he was drunk. And Jeff, well, he wanted to. Just a little bit. Maybe he just wants to kiss someone, anyone, but when he thinks about kissing someone else, it doesn’t feel the same way.

So it’s Parse.

It’s a total disaster. Together with all the other disasters he had to deal with – Jeff sitting out several games with a concussion, the Aces nearly getting swept in the first round of the playoffs, Jeff’s grandpa being in and out of hospital for the last couple of months – it’s just extremely inconvenient and uncalled for and he can’t believe he’s doing this to himself.

Not that he had much of a choice. He didn’t think to himself, _Oh yeah, I’m gonna have a stupid crush on Parse now_. 

Parse rolls onto his back and grins up at Jeff. “So?”

“So…” _So_ , this is really unfair. “I have my own apartment and I gotta go back there at some point.”

“Yeah.” Parse winks at him. “At some point.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, but you’re also a great pillow, so how about you don’t move until tomorrow morning?”

Jeff sighs and resigns himself to being a pillow for the rest of the evening. Was he really going to go home? No, not if Parse didn’t make him. And, honestly, Parse would never tell him to leave. The other week they had a fight about something that he can’t even remember anymore – it most likely started with Parse changing his mind about going out every other minute – and Jeff still slept on the couch and Parse still draped a blanket over him and Jeff still made him pancakes the next morning.

Sunny sometimes says they’re like a married couple. Jeff always says he’d never marry Parse, because he’s too messy and leaves his crap lying around everywhere. Parse always says he’d never marry Jeff because he takes doing the dishes too seriously and he couldn’t deal with that.

It’s probably a good thing they don’t live together, because they’d inevitably murder each other.

Parse seems to like hanging out at Jeff’s place, though – or maybe he likes coming over to eat all the food in Jeff’s fridge. The thing is, Jeff likes hanging out at Parse’s place too. He has a much better kitchen than Jeff. And he has a pool. And when Jeff comes over, he’ll most likely fall asleep on the couch, and sometimes Parse will fall asleep next to him.

And Jeff is pathetic enough to hope for that to happen.

*

Jeff is still awake when the doorbell rings two minutes after midnight on his birthday. Parse is outside his door and he’s holding a cupcake with a candle stuck in the frosting.

“Happy birthday, Swoopster,” Parse says and hands over the cupcake. “Make a wish.”

Jeff blows out the candle and tries not to wish for anything embarrassing. He grins. “You seriously came here to give me a cupcake?”

“Yeah.” Parse holds up a paper bag. “I got one for myself too, in case you wanted to have an impromptu birthday party, but…” He eyes Jeff’s pajama pants. “I guess you were already sleeping. Because you’re an old man.”

“Shut up, I’m getting plates.”

Parse laughs, takes Jeff’s cupcake, and walks away.

Jeff gets two plates, but when he wants to join Parse in the living room, he isn’t there. Jeff finds him in his bedroom, lying in bed, his Aces cap on the nightstand that Jeff never uses, holding up the cupcakes.

“Seriously?” Jeff asks and sits down next to Parse, cross-legged.

“I figured, since you’re old, you might want to go straight back to bed.”

“This is how you’re treating me on my birthday…” Jeff shakes his head, takes one of the cupcakes from Parse and hands him a plate in return. “I don’t want any crumbs in my bed.”

“Sure, old man,” Parse says and bites into his cupcake.

Jeff only sighs at him and turns his attention back to his own cupcake. He definitely has to find out where Parse got them.

When they’re both done, Jeff takes the plates and puts them on his nightstand. Usually he’d at least put them in the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to go anywhere. Parse looks cozy in his sweatpants and faded Aces shirt, like he’s about to fall asleep. He has a lazy smile on his face and Jeff wants nothing more than to cuddle up to him and sleep.

“Thanks, Parse,” Jeff says.

“Well, you usually make me an entire cake, so…”

“I guess I should also thank you for not making them yourself.”

Parse gives him a shove and Jeff lets himself fall over with a dramatic sigh. “Now we just gotta win that game for my birthday.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Parse says.

Jeff hums. Even though Parse was _joking_ about him being an old man, Jeff really is tired. They had back-to-back games two days ago and they have another one tomorrow before they go on the road, and Jeff is exhausted. Parse looks knackered too.

“The old man is going to sleep now,” Jeff says. Getting up again to brush his teeth was never even an option.

“All right,” Parse says. He tilts his head and scrunches up his nose. Thinking. “You know what…” He scoots down and curls up on his side. “I’ll give you a ride to the rink for morning skate.”

“Sounds good,” Jeff says and turns off the lights.

Sleeping in the same bed as Parse is fine. Totally fine. There’s more than enough space between them. It’s not weird.

They’ve slept in the same bed before, mostly on roadies, when they were watching TV and sitting in the same bed and both of them fell asleep. Parse is about as clingy when he’s asleep as he is when he’s drunk, so Jeff already knows that he’ll wake up with Parse cuddling him. Which is also fine. And excruciating.

Jeff is still awake when Parse rolls over and his fingers curl around Jeff’s arm. Fine. It’s fine.

*

“Thanks, guys,” Jeff says when the reporters scattered around him are done asking questions. He tries to smile as they wander off, but he’s not feeling it, even though the Aces just won against the Aeros. The final score was 8-2.

The problem is that not a single one of those eight goals was his, even though he assisted on two of them. He hasn’t scored in a while, actually. People are starting to notice. They’re starting to point it out. They’re starting to ask him about it. Jeff is tired of answering questions about it – they just won’t go in for him right now and it seems there isn’t much he can do about it.

“Swoops,” Parse says right next to him.

Jeff takes a deep breath. He didn’t even notice him. “Yeah?”

“You wanna come to mine?”

It’s pretty obvious that Parse is only asking him to come over because he looks absolutely miserable, but he’d like the company, so he’ll take the pity invite. “Sure.”

“I’m gonna make you pasta,” Parse says. “I mean, I’m gonna make mac and cheese or something.”

Jeff frowns at him. On any other given day Parse would want him to make pasta. Anything he makes is better than mac and cheese. He can make mac and cheese and it’ll be better than whatever Parse has at home in some box. “I can–”

“No, come on, you’d do the same thing for me.”

“I’m okay,” Jeff says. He doesn’t feel okay, but he will be. It’s not so bad that he can’t make pasta. He’s just annoyed at himself because he can’t seem to get a puck into the net.

“Yeah, sure you are.”

Whatever, so he’s letting Parse make gross mac and cheese for him.

They eat store-bought cookies for dessert and Parse lets him pick a movie and gets Kit so Jeff can cuddle her for a bit.

“Do you want a pep talk?” Parse asks halfway through _The Last Crusade_.

“What?”

“You know, when a player is in a slump or whatever, I usually talk to him and say nice things and hope that he doesn’t cry because I _still_ don’t know how to deal with that most of the time.”

“I’m not gonna cry.”

“I figured,” Parse says. “I could give you a hug, you know? Cuddle you a bit. Although I guess you have Kit for that now. I don’t offer cuddles to anyone, though. Hugs, yeah. But not cuddles.”

“You just know how to make a guy feel special,” Jeff says.

Parse smirks. “I sure do.”

“Get your mind of the gutter.”

“My mind wasn’t anywhere close to the gutter.” Parse gives him a poke. “Yours, however…”

Jeff grabs a pillow and tosses it at Parse, but Kit clearly isn’t a huge fan of sudden movements, so she glares and stalks off to curl up at the other end of the couch. “Aw, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re apologizing to her, but not to me?”

“Guess the cuddles are off the table now, huh?”

Honestly? Jeff really wants a hug. And he lets out a soft sigh when Parse scoots closer and wraps an arm around him.

“Remember when I didn’t score for more than two consecutive games and everyone was like, oh no, his career is over, who even is this Kent Parson dude, we’ve never heard of him… Remember that?”

“I remember,” Jeff says quietly.

“It’s what they do, they like to write about that kinda stuff, but we both know that you’re not done scoring yet.” Parse pats Jeff’s head. “It happens to everyone. And even when you’re not scoring, you’re–”

“An important part of the team?” Jeff finishes for him. It’s the same thing he says to sad rookies.

“You are,” Parse says.

Jeff knows that he means it. At this point, Jeff can tell when Parse is lying. At least most of the time. “Thanks, Parse.”

“I can keep going.”

“It’s fine,” Jeff says and leans his head against Parse’s. “I’m fine.”

“All right…” Parse doesn’t let go of him, though. “Hey, Swoops, if you wanna stay…”

“Thanks,” Jeff says again.

He shouldn’t stay. But he will.

*

“Okay, this is the last one, who–”

“I want it,” Sunny says and reaches out to Bennie, who’s shaking his head as he hands over the last s’more.

Jeff can’t remember how many he’s eaten at this point, but he’d explode if he ate another one, that much he knows. They’re spending their bye week in Bennie’s parents’ second house in Southern California – him, Parse, Sunny, Gabe, and Bennie – and they’re mostly here because the guys wanted to go golfing. Jeff only tagged along because he likes hanging out with the guys and not so much for the golfing.

They were going to sit on the back porch but it got too cold, so now they’re all in the living room, watching the Aeros lose like they’ve never lost before. Bennie’s been coming and going to deliver food from the grill outside, but it seems that he’s done now, which is honestly for the best because Jeff feels like he’ll never be able to move again. They’ve brought enough food to last them at least three bye weeks.

Gabe is curled up in an armchair and looks like he’s about to fall asleep and Parse, next to Jeff, has wrapped himself in a blanket. It has little cats on it and apparently belongs to Bennie’s younger sister, who hasn’t been here in about ten years.

“I don’t even know if I’m impressed or horrified,” Parse says, his eyes on Sunny as he licks chocolate off his fingers.

“You’re impressed,” Jeff says.

“Yeah, I mean, I probably am.”

“All right, kids, I’m going to bed,” Gabe says after the end of the second period. The Aeros are down by six. “Is Swoops making breakfast again tomorrow?”

“Yes, he is,” Sunny says.

Bennie nods.

“What if I don’t?”

“Then Parse is going to cry,” Sunny says. “Do you want to see tears in those beautiful sea green eyes?”

“His eyes aren’t sea green,” Jeff says. Sometimes they do look a little green, but that’s beside the point. It’s not like Jeff has ever thoroughly inspected Parse’s eyes. He’d like to, but that’s beside the point as well.

“Swoops, please, we’ll never mess with you ever again.”

That’s a lie and they all know it. Anyway, Jeff doesn’t mind making breakfast, but he can’t be the only one who knows how to make pancakes or scrambled eggs or waffles, right?

“Fine,” Jeff says when the guys won’t stop staring at him with puppy eyes.

“We love you, Jeff,” Gabe coos and then bids them a good night.

Bennie is the next one to start yawning and Jeff is pretty sure that he falls asleep for a second there, his head jerking when he wakes up again. He rubs his eyes and stands up to stretch, patting them all on the head before he goes to bed.

Sunny gets up only a few minutes into the third period, after the Schooners score their eighth goal. “All those pucks in the net make me sad,” he mutters. “Night, guys.”

“Goalies,” Jeff whispers as Sunny noisily trudges up the stairs. “Although I don’t like pucks in our net either.”

Parse laughs. “Well, as long as it’s the Aeros’ net I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I know how much you love the Aeros’ net,” Jeff says and gives Parse a nudge.

“Not that again…”

“Still the best goal I’ve ever assisted on even though it was an empty-netter,” Jeff says. “Highlight of my life, I swear. No one has ever fallen over that gracefully. And then you slid right in there after the puck and your face was hilarious.” So hilarious even that Jeff took a screenshot and printed it out to hang it in Parse’s locker the next day.

“Honestly, that should have counted as another goal.”

“Definitely.”

Parse laughs and scoots over so he can rest his head against Jeff’s shoulder. The game goes on and they don’t talk much anymore until two guys start fighting and Parse gives a running commentary of it, like he’s some sort of expert, even though he usually doesn’t do more than give another player a rough shove.

“He was drafted the same year I was,” Jeff says when the Aeros’ Jamie Wilson is escorted to the penalty box. “He’s a dick.”

“Why?”

“He just is,” Jeff says. He’s had a multitude of insults shouted his way on the ice, but none of them ever cut as deep as the things Wilson said to him. They were teenagers and maybe Wilson has changed, but back then Jeff caught himself wondering if it was worth it.

Parse doesn’t say anything after that, but he cuddles closer to Jeff and pulls the blanket over his thighs. It won’t go any further because the rest of it is wrapped around Parse like a toga, but Jeff appreciates it all the same.

The Aeros manage to score their second goal of the game, not that it’ll do much good, but Parse slow-claps at the TV anyhow. After the whistle, things are getting rough again and Parse complains that the game will never end. Jeff is starting to think he might be right when the game is interrupted again because there’s a hole in the ice. There’s only nine minutes left on the clock.

Jeff sighs. “They might as well go home.”

“Hey, they might score half a dozen goals in nine minutes, who knows,” Parse mumbles. He yawns and wiggles a bit, nuzzling into the sleeve of Jeff’s hoodie.

They fall silent again as the game goes on. Parse is warm next to him and Jeff can’t help but think that this is what it would be like to have someone – a boyfriend, a partner, _anyone_. They’d sit on the couch together, cuddled up, and they’d watch TV. Jeff wants this, and he thinks he might actually want this with Parse.

Honestly, Jeff could have picked anyone to make heart-eyes at from afar – and sometimes from up close, which is even worse. He could have picked any other unattainable guy on the planet. There are thousands upon thousands. But, no, it had to be Parse.

He could have gone and fallen in love with some nice guy with a great beard at a farmers’ market, or maybe a librarian, who talks about books and not about hockey, or just anyone but Kent Parson. Because Parse has issues he doesn’t talk about with anyone other than his therapist, and he’s overdramatic and takes too many pictures of his cat, and he likes cheese more than a normal person should. He’s also Jeff’s best friend. And he’s Jeff’s best friend for a reason.

Jeff likes looking at all those pictures of Kit, because of the way Parse’s eyes light up when he talks about her, and he likes trying out new cheese sauces and making ravioli with cheese filling because he knows Parse will like them, and in return Parse will take him to basketball games or he’ll buy him weird ingredients and say, “I thought you might know what to do with this.” Once during the summer Parse ordered him a pizza to his parents’ house because Jeff was texting him, telling him that he was home alone and he was too lazy to cook.

Parse cares, even though he sometimes has a strange way of showing it, and sometimes he makes mistakes, but Jeff has watched him grow over the last couple of years, and Parse was there for him when it mattered.

Jeff sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jeff says. It’s nothing and it won’t ever be anything.

The game’s over, so Jeff turns off the TV, and he moves to get up, but Parse wraps an arm around his waist to keep him on the couch. “Let’s just sit here for a minute, yeah?”

Jeff settles back against the couch. “Yeah,” he says, “all right.” Because apparently he’s somehow incapable of saying no to Parse.

They sit there for more than a minute and Jeff thinks they might have sat there for another hour if they hadn’t heard the footsteps of someone in the hallway upstairs. It’s one of the guys going to the bathroom probably, but it quickly snaps both of them out of whatever bubble they were existing in during the last five minutes.

They trudge up the stairs and before they part ways at the end of the hallway, Parse touches the small of Jeff’s back, fleetingly, and whispers, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jeff whispers back, and slips into his room, and tries not to read too much into it.

*

It’s the third time this week that Jeff is waking up with Parse next to him.

Parse is still asleep, his arm is slung around Jeff, fingers tangled in his shirt. He’s not snoring, but he’s drooling on Jeff’s pillow. And probably also on the sleeve of Jeff’s shirt.

Jeff should give him a shove, wake him up, tell him to get out of his bed, but Parse woke with a start in the middle of the night, waking up Jeff as well, and even though Parse told Jeff that it was nothing, Jeff felt him tossing and turning next to him for a while, so he’ll let him sleep. Maybe he’ll try to get out from under Parse’s arm at some point, though.

The regular season is winding down and they’re still fighting for a playoff spot. They have to win the next two games, otherwise they’ll be cutting it awfully close.

When they came back from a roadie earlier this week, Parse was supposed to give him a ride home, but then they went to Parse’s and ordered food, and Jeff stuck around and fell asleep on the couch, as he so often does. Parse fell asleep next to him.

The day after, Parse asked him if he wanted to come home with him after practice because he had too many leftovers. And Jeff stayed again. And they watched a movie and somehow Parse ended up with his head on Jeff’s shoulder, and Jeff ended up with his arm around Parse, and because he was maybe slightly sleep-deprived and stressed and totally out of it, Jeff might have stroked Parse’s hair a little. Parse didn’t shove his hand away, didn’t complain, just snuggled closer and hummed softly, and Jeff couldn’t bring himself to stop.

And they fell asleep like that, and even though Jeff woke up sometime during the night and realized that he was honest-to-god spooning Parse, he didn’t fucking move. He had a stern talk with himself the next day, because he knows he’s making things worse for himself.

So yesterday, after the game, Jeff went home, to his own apartment, on his own.

Parse showed up two hours later, ringing the doorbell, glaring when Jeff opened the door, like he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Jeff didn’t ask him what the hell was going on, didn’t tell him to go home, he just went back to his bedroom and left the door open for Parse.

A minute later Parse slipped into bed with him with a small sigh.

Jeff thinks he understands why they’re doing this, or maybe he doesn’t. Well, he knows why _he_ is doing this. He likes Parse. More than he should like a friend, more than he should like a teammate, more than he should like someone he can’t be with, at least not without making his life a billion times more complicated. And because he likes Parse, even though he shouldn’t, he’s not going to say no to being close to him.

He can’t speak for Parse, though, he can only guess. Parse is most likely lonely and doesn’t have time to hook up with one of his super secret NHL pals, so cuddling Jeff is good enough.

Jeff doesn’t even want to consider that Parse might like him too.

Parse makes a displeased noise and rolls over, pulling the sheets with him. At least now Jeff can get out of bed without waking him up. He leaves his alarm on for Parse – it’s going to go off in about fifteen minutes – and then shuffles into the kitchen to see if he’s got anything that’ll make a decent breakfast.

He’s already gotten started on some pancake batter when he hears his alarm ringing down the hall. Parse is quick to turn it off.

Footsteps approach a moment later and then Parse leans against Jeff’s back with a groan. “I hate getting up.”

“I know,” Jeff says.

Somehow, this morning doesn’t feel real. Parse, behind him, warm and pliant, doesn’t feel real. Nothing happened, they just slept in the same bed, as they’ve done a billion times before, so Jeff isn’t sure why he suddenly feels like he’s been thrown into an alternate universe, but this morning everything is different.

“Jeff…” Parse’s hand is on his side, slowly trailing up and down.

“Yeah?”

Parse doesn’t reply immediately, and his hand stills. “Sorry I woke you up last night,” Parse whispers.

Somehow, Jeff is pretty sure that Parse knows that Jeff hadn’t been sleeping yet when he showed up here. “It’s fine,” Jeff says. It’s not fine. Why does he keep saying that? It changed everything. They can’t play it off as an accident.

Parse showed up here.

Jeff let him in.

Parse crawled into bed with him.

Jeff let him stay.

“Are you making pancakes?” Parse asks after a moment.

“Yep.”

Parse’s hand is still on his side. He’s so close, and so warm, and so… _there_. Jeff can’t decide if he wants to gently push Parse away from him, or if he wants to turn around and kiss him and finally find out if his lips are as soft as they look.

He doesn’t do either of those things. He says, “Hey, Parse, can you check if there’s blueberries in the fridge?”

There are no blueberries in the fridge. He knows that there aren’t. Parse tells him that there aren’t any a few seconds later and shrugs. “We don’t need any if there’s chocolate chips.”

So Jeff puts chocolate chips in Parse’s pancakes. After breakfast, Parse has to go home and feed Kit. Before he leaves, he gives Jeff a look that he can’t quite read, but it’s gone quickly and replaced by a soft smile that Jeff would usually murder to see. “See you at the rink, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeff says, and tries not to have some kind of existential crisis.

He has one anyway, nearly runs a red light on the way to the rink and is so lost in thought that he almost walks straight into Sunny, who keeps shooting him worried looks and doesn’t even laugh when Jeff tries to put his left skate on his right foot.

Parse skates up to him on the ice, chirps him, and skates off again. Nothing’s changed there. Jeff tries to figure out if Parse looks at him differently, but all he finds is that Parse looks at him _a lot_. But it’s always been like that, right? They’re on the same line, they’re bound to look at each other a lot.

When they leave the ice after practice, Parse gives Jeff a tap with his stick. “You wanna come over tonight? I have an appointment in the afternoon, but…”

It’s an appointment with his therapist probably. Jeff opens his mouth to say yes, then he remembers that he needs to hit the brakes here, so he says, “I can’t. Sorry.”

“Okay…” Parse frowns, but he doesn’t ask Jeff what he’s doing tonight.

Jeff is glad that he doesn’t have to lie.

*

Jeff doesn’t want to go as far as saying that the game the next day is the best one they’ve ever played together, but it’s pretty damn close. They score two goals each, and Parse gives Jeff an extra tight hug before they leave the ice. They needed this win badly and today they did everything just right.

Sunny got an assist on one of Jeff’s goals and he runs through the locker room half-naked after the game, yelling about it.

When the reporters ask Jeff what worked so well for them today, he doesn’t have an easy answer ready for them. It was one of those games where Parse was in the exact right place and Jeff had no trouble finding him there, and that’s all there is to it. They always work well together, but today the Schooners’ defense made it extra easy for them.

Parse finds Jeff as he’s getting ready to go home, rummaging through his bag for his car keys.

“Hey,” Parse says and throws an arm around him. “Wanna celebrate? But just a little because we still gotta win the game the day after tomorrow? Like, I’m thinking a movie and a nap. And pizza.”

“Parse…” Jeff can’t. And it was an afternoon game, so he can’t say that it’s late and that he’s tired, so he needs to come up with something else. Quickly.

“Why are you giving me that look?” Parse asks.

“What look?”

“I don’t know, you always look at me like that when I said something stupid and need to apologize for it. What did I say?”

Jeff can’t talk about this here in the locker room. There’s still people around. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

“Wha–” Parse snaps his mouth shut. He has to know what this is about and apparently he realized that acting like he doesn’t won’t help at all. “Fine, let’s go get ice cream.”

They end up driving to an ice cream place close to the rink, Parse gets each of them two scoops and they sit in Jeff’s car in a far corner of the parking lot, eating in silence.

Parse is done first. He puts down his cup and clears his throat. “This is about me showing up at your place in the middle of the night, isn’t it?”

“It’s… yeah, it’s about that. But also about other things.”

“What _things_?”

Jeff doesn’t even know where to start. They’re so close, the best of friends, and Jeff doesn’t want to lose that, but he will one way or another if they keep going like this. He takes a deep breath and says, “We have to stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Parse looks away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s just… I can’t–”

“No, I get it, I fucked up again, didn’t I? Shit, I should have asked you, I never did, I just assumed that you were okay with all of this.”

“Kent, I’m serious, none of this is your fault.”

“But it _is_. I got too close and you didn’t want that. Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“Because I didn’t want you to, but–”

“But you said you wanted me to.”

“No, that’s not…” Jeff’s head is going to explode. They keep talking around this without actually saying what needs to be said. “Parse, when I look at you, all I want to do is kiss your stupid face, okay? That’s why I can’t keep doing this thing. And you’re… I don’t even know, I can’t be the guy you snuggle up to when there’s no one else around.”

Parse blinks at him. Today Jeff can’t tell what color his eyes are. “What if I want to do that even when there is someone else around?”

Jeff is going to die right here in his car. His heart is hammering in his chest. He understands what Parse is saying and it could all be so easy from here on out, but it isn’t. “Then we’re still teammates, remember?”

“What if I don’t care?”

“Parse…” He can’t say something like that to Jeff. Because if Parse doesn’t care, Jeff will stop caring in 0.1 seconds. “Kent. Come on.”

“Jeff, do you have any idea how many therapy sessions it took me to accept that my entire life won’t end if I fall in love with a teammate again?” Parse takes a deep breath. “Listen, I thought we were on the same page. But we clearly aren’t. And that’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jeff says. It’s not. It was about time someone said it.

“Do you care that we’re teammates?” Parse asks.

“Things could get messy.”

“Well, you’d be with me. I’m the messiest person you’ve ever met.”

“You really are,” Jeff says.

“I probably won’t stop being messy.”

Jeff reaches out to take Parse’s hand. “I don’t care.”

“That I’m messy?”

“That we’re teammates,” Jeff says. “I’ll still give you shit about leaving your stuff lying around everywhere.”

Parse smiles. Jeff has never wanted to kiss him as much as he does right now.

“Jeff,” Parse says, “will you please just kiss my incredibly handsome face?”

“We’re in a parking lot.”

“Right,” Parse says. “Meet me at my place? Movie, nap, pizza. Maybe other things?”

“Okay,” Jeff says. He doesn’t let his mind dwell on the _other things_.

“Okay,” Parse echoes and squeezes Jeff’s hand before he slips out of the car to get into his own.

*

Parse is already waiting for Jeff outside the door when Jeff parks his car in Parse’s driveway.

Jeff is way too nervous for this. He knows what’s going to happen and there’s a good chance that he’ll fuck it all up somehow. Parse has already unlocked the front door and he’s waiting for him and it takes Jeff forever to walk to the door. It seems like the stone path that leads from the driveway to the front door is a mile long.

Parse nudges him in through the door, hand on the small of his back, and Jeff is somewhat torn between wanting to get his hands on Parse, and wanting to run away, and wanting to sit down and have a conversation before they rush headfirst into this, but he’s well aware that the first option is the only one that’ll work for him so he meets Parse halfway before Parse has even managed to kick the door shut.

Jeff somehow manages to knock off Parse’s cap, but it goes unnoticed. Parse is busy, his hands clenched in Jeff’s shirt, pulling him down the hall as he kisses him, away from the door, into the living room, down onto the couch. Jeff lets himself be pulled, no questions asked.

The skin at the back of Parse’ neck is soft, and Jeff is glad that his lips are otherwise occupied, because if they weren’t, he’d probably blurt it out and Parse would never let him hear the end of it. Jeff first kisses Parse’s jaw and then leaves a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. He feels the flutter of Parse’s heartbeat under his fingertips as he slowly trails them down his chest, hears Parse’s soft exhale when Jeff kisses his neck again, feels Parse’s fingers tighten in his hair to pull him up again.

Parse keeps kissing him, lazily, exhausted from the game, but apparently not at all willing to stop. Jeff understands, he wants to be as close as he can, kiss him as much as he can now that he’s allowed to, but he also needs a moment to get his thoughts into order again, to wrap his mind around what’s happening here.

“Kent,” Jeff says between kisses.

“Are you gonna keep calling me Kent, because I think it might take me a while to get used to that.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

Parse smirks.

“Think of something I can use at the rink,” Jeff says.

“You just had to go and destroy all of my hopes and dreams, didn’t you?”

Jeff kisses him in reply and goes back to running his thumb along the back of Parse’s neck. He wants to explore a little, or even a lot, because he’s been thinking about this, about Parse’s skin under his fingertips, and about the light dusting of freckles on his shoulders, but there’ll be time for that later.

He’s tired and he should probably put some ice on his ankle and none of this was part of the plan and he’s so, so overwhelmed, but he’s completely blissed out at the same time. He won’t get up and find an ice pack because that’d mean letting go of Parse, and he can’t bring himself to, so he tucks Parse against his side and kisses the tip of his nose. “Nap,” he only says.

“Are you gonna kiss me again when we wake up?”

“Maybe,” Jeff mumbles and nuzzles into Parse’s hair.

Parse hooks a leg around him, makes a few quiet noises, and falls asleep even more quickly than Jeff. Jeff drifts off with Parse’s hair tickling his cheek. When they wake up again – when Parse wakes Jeff up by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth – Kit is sleeping next to their feet.

“Hey, princess,” Parse says.

“You’re talking to Kit, right?”

“No, I was talking to you.” Parse kisses his forehead. “Princess.”

“Fine, I’ll be your princess, that’s cool.”

Parse laughs and crawls on top of him. “Pizza?”

“Okay.”

“And a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Is that our first date?”

“I guess,” Jeff says. “Sounds like our kind of first date anyway. I’ll cook for you on the second one.”

“Well, I’ll put out on the third one, so there you go.”

Jeff snorts. “Good to know.”

“I might change my mind, though.”

“Also good to know.”

“Anyway,” Parse says. He’s hovering right above Jeff, their noses almost touching. Parse’s eyes look dark right now and Jeff couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “You’re staying tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “I’m staying.” He reaches up to run his fingers through Parse’s hair and Parse leans into his touch, his eyelids fluttering. “There’s some stuff we gotta talk about. You know, about–” About tomorrow, and the day after, and next week, and the future, and the team, and them, about what they’re going to be, about what they _want_ to be.

Parse scrunches up his nose, but he doesn’t argue. “I know.” He gives Jeff a quick kiss. “Jeff…”

“What?”

Parse’s nose bumps against Jeff’s and he just stares for a minute. “You’re actually pretty good at kissing. I didn’t think you’d be.”

It’s probably not what Parse really meant to say, but Jeff will play along for now. “You’re such an ass.” He wraps his arms around Parse and Parse immediately flops down on top of him with a sigh.

He wonders if Parse is scared of this. Jeff is, he definitely is. There’ll be a time to talk about the what ifs and maybes, but for now he’ll enjoy this and keep reality from sinking in. They’ll need a plan if they want to keep this a secret. Jeff is going to have to admit, sooner than later, that he has no idea what an actual relationship entails, that he’s floundering along right now. And Parse will have things to say, too. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not anytime soon, but some of it might not be easy to hear.

Jeff isn’t going anywhere, though. “Hey, Parse?”

“Yeah?”

“Since I’m apparently a pretty good kisser… wanna kiss me again?”

Parse does kiss him again. And again. And after that, he kisses him a little more.

*

For the fourth time this week, Jeff falls asleep next to Kent Parson. He’s sure that it won’t be the last time.

Maybe today is where the story _really_ starts.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @zimmermaenner on tumblr if you wanna drop by!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


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